A blister on the surface of existence

I wear my bruise until it fades and dissipates in time-
the pain subsides until the mark on my thumb becomes so very much less that a simple spectre,
yet it becomes one of which should pain me so drastically as though the thumb itself were to cease to be.
It pains me so that I bite and tear at the surrounding skin until the qualia of a full blister becomes a burning and tearing sensation that I must bite and rip;
and as such, I shall tear the  flesh until the blood pours and then the pain will occur no more.